Lately, the concept of hope has been occupying my thoughts. We have seen countless leaders inspire us with visions of a brighter future. Yet, one of the most profound tutorials in hope can be found in Parashas Va’eschanan.
Moshe describes his rejection from entering Eretz Yisrael and how he has prayed with the hope that he would be able to enter.
Moshe Rabbeinu is a hero of our people, he has shown us that one can go from a place of utter despair and hopelessness to a place of absolute strength and leadership and hope.
In her influential work, The Atlas of The Heart1, Brené Brown delves into the concept of hopelessness, attributing its emergence to a confluence of negative life events and negative thought patterns. These patterns often manifest as self-blame and a perceived incapacity to change one's circumstances.
We are frequently confronted with the perception of failure and impending doom, leaving us feeling adrift in a chaotic world. This existential dread could very well mirror the profound distress our ancestors must have felt upon our exile from the Holy Land, witnessing the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash.
Through history, our journey has been marked by periods of content and comfort, frequently succeeded by times of profound despair, like a pendulum swinging between hope and harsh reality. This recurring plight is etched deeply into our memory, from the thriving Torah life in Europe to relentless torment of the Crusades, the wealth in Spain and then the terror of the Inquisition, to the comfortable Jewish life in Europe and devastating horrors of the pogroms and the Holocaust, with countless episodes of suffering interspersed and extending beyond these events.
This profound sense of despair has seeped into our everyday lives, casting long shadows in our homes and workplaces. It has sparked movements, fueled philosophies, and continues to shape our shared narrative.
The seemingly fragile threads that bind our lives are forever immersed in the potential for disaster. We contend daily with adverse events, including tragedies such as accidents, illnesses, and premature death. Despite our awareness of these daunting prospects, we are tasked with pressing forward in an uncertain world.
During Tisha B'Av, we came together as a community, to reflect on our historical sorrow, commemorating the many hardships our ancestors endured throughout history. This day serves not only as a solemn remembrance but also as a testament to our resilience and optimism, demonstrating our collective determination to thrive in the face of adversity.
However, the question asks itself: how do we navigate such a tumultuous world? Our primary secret tool is hope. This forward-thinking emotion assures us that situations will improve, that we possess the strength to endure, and that even amidst darkness, the world is abundant with light.
Brown writes: “We need hope like we need air. To live without hope is to risk suffocating on hopelessness and despair, risk being crushed by the belief that there is no way out of what is holding us back, no way to get what we desperately need.” She continues, “ hope is a function of struggle - we develop hope not during the easy or comfortable times but through adversity and discomfort.”
She goes on to define longing or optimism as “an involuntary yearning for wholeness, for understanding, for meaning, for the opportunity to regain or even simply touch what we’ve lost.”
Rabbi Sacks however emphasized a fundamental distinction between optimism and hope, where optimism is a passive belief in the natural progression of things towards betterment, while hope is an active virtue entailing a courageous commitment to improving the world234. Reflecting on Jewish history, he observed that the recurring trials and tribulations have precluded optimism, but have not managed to extinguish the enduring flame of hope.5 He qualifies that the Torah, despite its non-optimistic nature, stands as a grand literary embodiment of hope.6 Hope is seen as costly, demanding steadfast resolve and the refusal of comfort until the anticipated outcome is actualized.7 This has become a characteristic of the Jewish people, as he writes: “Jews are the people who refused to be comforted because they never gave up hope.”8
We are beings of hope, longing for the era of the Mashiach, a period devoid of darkness, rather, filled with light. This yearning is ignited by instances that inspire hope, breaking free from our fear-induced paralysis and enabling us to take the crucial step forward.
This sacred secret of hope is not just a private yearning but a universal obligation for every Jew. As described in the Talmud9, when we conclude our earthly journey, the celestial tribunal will question whether we hoped for the redemption10. This fundamental secret of hope has been the secret sauce, fueling our perseverance as a community and as individuals for millennia.
Hope is perhaps an invention of God - who has hope for His people. Though we may be at times be ungrateful and difficult, He holds onto that hope to sustain us further. When we have hope, we are mirroring God. We are acting Godly. To be a Jew is to be a source of hope against a world of despair. As Rabbi Sacks put it “To be a Jew is to be a part of a people, sharing its joys, participating in its griefs, recalling its history, making its hopes my own.”11
Where does one find hope?
Rav Sacks explains that “crisis in Jewish history has always led to renewal, not despair.12 My friend Rav Joey Rosenfeld explains this idea in his inimitable fashion:
“Tisha B’av is a day of losing hope and uncovering a deeper form of hoping. We transgress the prohibition of losing hope and we fall into the abyss of despair. But it is specifically there that we discover the irreducible hope that rests at the core of hopelessness itself. When all defenses fail, we are left exposed to the harsh reality of what it means to lack. In that place, when we try and fail to find something to grab hold of, we allow ourselves a moment of hopelessness, a moment of bewilderment and exhaustion. It is specifically there that a previously untapped power of hopeful faith and faithful hope is uncovered”
Moshe Rabbeinu was not allowed into Eretz Yisrael, he prayed 515 different Tefillos to be allowed in, he had hope. The Torah teaches us a hard truth: not everyone reaches their promised land. Yet, accepting this reality can liberate us, fostering a more realistic form of hope—an uncertain hope—which lessens the impact of disappointments and encourages us to persevere.
It is no coincidence that Shabbos Nachamu always falls out on Parashas Va’eschanan, perhaps it serves as a gentle reminder. Just as Moshe, despite being denied entry to the Holy Land, harbored hope and prayed for admittance, he did not look at himself as a failure, rather hoped for the best. We too must harness this divine gift of hope to envision a brighter and more prosperous future.
I would like to close with the poignant words of Rav Sacks.
“At the heart of Jewish faith is Jerusalem, the holy city whose name is peace. Has a people ever loved a city so deeply for so long? Almost every prayer in the Jewish prayer book includes a prayer for Jerusalem. The word itself figures more than 900 times in the Bible. Jerusalem, David’s city, the place where the Temple stood, home of the Divine presence, the place where, still today, you can feel God’s closeness as nowhere else. And though all that remains of the Temple is one wall, still to stand and pray in that spot is to feel the presence of three thousand years of Jewish prayers and tears and hopes.
The day will come, when the story of Israel in modern times will speak not just to Jews, but to all who believe in the power of the human spirit as it reaches out to God, as an everlasting symbol of the victory of life over death, hope over despair. Israel has achieved great things. It has taken a barren land and made it bloom again. It’s taken an ancient language, the Hebrew of the Bible, and made it speak again. It’s taken the West’s oldest faith and made it young again. Israel has taken a tattered, shattered nation and made it live again. Israel is the home of hope.” 13
Shabbos Nachamu is the Shabbos of Hope - hope for a time when we will be truly comforted.
Originally posted July 2023
Pg 97 - 101
Celebrating Life, p. 175
The Dignity of Difference, p. 206
To Heal a Fractured World, p. 166
The Dignity of Difference, p. 206; The Chief Rabbi’s Haggadah (Essays), p. 80
To Heal a Fractured World, p. 166
The Great Partnership, p. 242
Covenant and Conversation: Genesis, p. 256
Shabbos 31
It is worth noting the words of Rav Kook, who says that צפית לישועה does not mean hope, he writes: A person is asked "did you hearken (צפיה) for salvation?" and not "did you hope". צפיה comes from the word "scout". The role of the scout is to use every occurrence to warn against problems and to awaken the undertaking of salvation. So it is upon us to make use of every occurrence in the world, for through them salvation for Israel can arrive or spring up.”
מאמרי ראי"ה - קודש וחול בתחית ישראל - מן עתון 'ההד', תרצ"א
Covenant and Conversation: Leviticus p. 425
Will we have Jewish Grandchildren? pp. 19-20
Israel – Home of Hope CD
The perfect message for this Shabbos!! Hope is the key to everything!